


A Christmas Exchange

by stupidinspaces



Series: No Angst Diet [1]
Category: Love Simon (2018), Simonverse | Creekwood Series - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Exchange, M/M, Third Person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17481062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidinspaces/pseuds/stupidinspaces
Summary: Bram and Simon exchange Christmas gifts after half a year of being separated for college.Written for the 2018 Winter Exchange.





	A Christmas Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daffodil_blue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daffodil_blue/gifts).



> To my new friend, Daffodil! It’s appropriate that I was assigned to gift something to you, since I owe you for all of the help you’ve extended. 
> 
> Titles are obviously not my strong suit, but I hope the rest is fine, haha. I wanted to do the exchange so I’d be motivated to finish a few particular fan works for this fandom, but that didn’t happen... I’ll attach them to this eventually, just so I’m not a total failure.
> 
> I’ve taken some liberties with regards to the timeline and places/place descriptions from the verse... Hope the changes are not too distracting. 
> 
> This is my take on a “soft, romantic piece.” I hope you like it!

He watches Simon blink away snowflakes from long eyelashes, watches the redness on his cheeks spread as he fiddles with his gloves. It’s fascinating, sometimes, the colors Simon has.

“It’s not much, but…” Simon says, a disclaimer before taking his gift out from a cloth bag.

“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you give me, Simon,” Bram says, chuckling when the redness spreads to the tips of Simon’s ears, clearly visible even in the dim light, even as Simon ducks his head to hide it.

They’re seated on a blanket, knees touching, on a hill overlooking the annual makeshift ‘Winterland’ theme park, watching the crowd get thicker as the last of the sunlight recedes from the sky. People going to the theme park are usually groups of friends; families with small children; and, Bram remembers rather than observes, people in love, some of whom that are on the verge of something new. Two years ago, he thinks, he and Simon were among them.

“Here,” Simon mumbles, their hands brushing as Bram takes the package from him.

“Thanks,” Bram says, turning it to read Simon’s scrawl, a slanted “BRAM”. His gift is something soft and padded and twice the size of his head, wrapped in yesterday’s news.

“Leah made me use newspapers for gift wrap,” Simon explains. “Says it’s better for the environment.”

Bram just smiles, unzips his own backpack, tilts the item he pulls out downward to show Simon the familiar wrapping. “She told me the same thing.”

Simon laughs, accepts it with a soft, “thank you,” and something about the way he holds the package - gently, almost reverently, makes Bram’s heart swell.

They’re exchanging gifts the eve before Christmas eve, since they’ll be spending Christmas at their respective households; Simon at Creekwood, Bram and his mom driving up to Savannah.

Bram imagines the general outline of his Christmas will be nigh identical to last year’s: loud gurgles of glee from his baby sister as his stepmom dances and sings with her, loud hymns from his mother’s old CDs playing in the living room, and the wafts of his dad’s cooking from the kitchen.

Dinner will consist of his dad’s casserole and turkey, his stepmom’s dumplings and pie, and his mom’s fruit salad. Under the table he’ll be texting Simon, wishing, without fail, that Simon could be there with them.

Christmas with his family is always great, but there could never be enough of Simon in his life as far as Bram is concerned. The sentiment has only grown stronger with their separation. Prior to their reunion at the airport a week ago, they hadn’t seen each other for half a year, not since they’d said temporary goodbyes to go to separate colleges.

Simon had come home to Creekwood for Christmas a few days before him, their school terms a few days out of sync. Simon had volunteered to pick him up from the airport, a two-hour drive from where he lives. “It’s not a big deal, I like driving anyway,” was all Simon had said, but Bram could always read between the lines.

Still, Bram had worried seeing Simon again would be underwhelming, awkward, one-sidedly exciting. He’d worried needlessly. The way Simon had gathered him in a bone-crushing hug had told him all about how mutual the longing and excitement was. And when they’d taken the first few steps towards the parking lot, being together didn’t feel rusty or out of step like he’d feared. It felt just like they’d picked up from their last walk together, the one they’d taken at Creekwood park, right before they’d flown to different sides of the country.

“You can go first,” Simon says, placing a hand on Bram’s knee.

Bram looks away, his face heated, though he doesn’t think his face is as traitorous as Simon’s. He flips open the card that Simon’s gift came with. “Dear Bram,” he reads out loud, steadying his voice, “this bear’s name is Jacques. I’ve trained him to give awesome bear hugs. Well, all of his hugs will be bear hugs, considering he’s a bear… I’ve authorized him to give you the best hugs he has, for the days I’m not around to deal them out personally. But only he is allowed to give you these bear hugs, just so you know. Other than me. And your mom. Love, Simon.”

Bram gives Simon a look at that message and they both laugh, Bram feeling as light as a kite.

“Just making that clear!” Simon says, tugging on his jacket with what Bram recognizes as embarrassment. 

“Thank you,” Bram says, sobering up, wondering at the affection he can feel toward an admittedly cute inanimate object, an unmoving imitation filled with balls of fluff. He wraps his arms around the bear briefly, a quick test of its abilities. “I’ll take care of him.”

“I have one too,” Simon says, while Bram tries to memorize the way the light is reflected in Simon’s eyes, how the light makes his eyes look gray. “His name is Blue.”

Bram laughs, head thrown back. “I’m glad. Tell Blue he’s doing a very good job.”

“Oh yeah, his hugs are almost as good as yours, though I might have to do several experiments to verify.”

“I’m a willing test subject,” Bram says and immediately gets fascinated when Simon licks his lips distractedly.

Bram straightens up in anticipation but Simon only claps his hands together, saying, “Okay, my turn!” and reading the card taped unto his gift without preamble, “Dear Simon, every moment in life is precious, and every moment with you even more so. Let’s make new memories together. Love, Bram.”

Bram adjusts his hat, scratches at a non-existent itch on his nose, not quite able to meet Simon’s eyes just yet.

“Aww,” Simon coos, prompting heat to spread from Bram’s hairline to his collar. Simon rewards him with a chaste kiss on his cheek, doing nothing to abate the heat.

They grin at each other before Simon carefully tears open the package. He turns the gift in one hand, mouth curved as he smiles behind a fist.

Simon’s gift is a yearly planner, with laminated cards with pictures and notes on either side tucked in some of the pages. Bram got the idea after Simon called him a week before finals week, crying about how he’d messed up his future before it had even begun. He wanted to remind Simon that there’ll be people to support him, even if the worst does happen.

“Don’t look at all of them yet!” Bram warns when Simon takes out the first card, the one with the picture of the two of them ice skating on the frozen pond behind their old middle school. “Just, go day by day.”

“Okay, I will, I’ll just take a look at this one,” Simon promises, bringing the photo to the light. Flipping to the other side of the card he reads, “January first. Two years ago from this date, we went ice skating on the frozen lake behind our middle school. The whole gang was there, except for Garrett, who went to a Jason Aldean concert. Your cheeks were rosy from the cold, and you gave me strawberry chapstick and kissed me ‘for science’ - you wanted to see if you could taste it when we kissed, under the pine trees. (You told me you could.)”

Bram remembers laboring over those cards, typing up memories from his journal, cutting out the photo printouts and laminating them in the multimedia lab at school. It’s gratifying to see the final product in Simon’s hands, even more so when Simon looks up at him.

“Bram,” Simon says, tone of wonder in his voice, “this is so awesome.”

“Yeah, well…” Bram says, in lieu of something better. He’s forgotten what words do for a moment. 

Simon traces the collage of photos glued on the cover of the book with a finger; photos of Garrett, Nick, Abby, Leah, but mostly of him and Simon.

“I should make you one, too,” Simon says, eyes on the cover. “Don’t want you to forget all about me… We spend so many days apart, I start to worry, you know?” He’s smiling, but there’s a hint of vulnerability under the joking tone he’s adapted.

“I won’t,” Bram says, hoping that he can convey even a hint of how true that statement is, “I don’t. I honestly think about you every day.”

Simon’s eyes are shiny when he blinks rapidly in succession, swallowing heavily. “Me too.”

There’s still something scary about being laid bare and vulnerable, but knowing that Simon will understand his emotions prompts him to flay open these thoughts anyway. Still, he can’t help but avert his eyes to the blinking lights of the theme park below. 

It’s common practice among high school students to make fun of the Winterland theme park, which is too small to compete with the excitement of the theme parks in bigger cities; but Bram will always view the theme park in high regard, if only for its sentimental value. Even 14 years from now, he knows he’ll be defending it to his little sister when she inevitably laments that everything is doomed to be lame forever in a perpetual mode of unimpressed during her teenage years. 

“Want to go on one of the rides?” Bram says, when he finds his voice again, nodding towards the theme park. “Before it closes - maybe on the tilt-a-whirl?”

Simon grins. “We don’t have to.” He takes Bram’s hand in his. “I don’t want you to get sick.” Then, when Bram’s self-estimated coolness has somewhat recovered from that blow, a quiet, “Still can’t believe you rode the tilt-a-whirl for me.”

Bram doesn’t quite know how to say that he’d been so queasy that day, before he’d even gotten on that ride. He’d spent most of the day thinking that things between him and ‘Jacques’ were over, and then he’d gotten Simon’s email, making him hopeful and then panicked as he realized he was going to miss the time Simon had written to meet him. On the way, he alternated between excitement and fear with every step. But it had been so worth it, every moment on that dizzying ride. He wanted to tell Simon that even after, when they sat on the curb and held hands, how despite the urge to throw up at any second, Bram felt like he was _winning_ at life.

“But, you know, anywhere is good with me,” Simon shrugs, “when we’re together.”

Bram would have loved to see the shade of red Simon’s face was when he said that, but Simon had laid his head on Bram’s shoulder, and there’s no other appropriate response than to put his arms around him, really.

They sit in silence for a while, Bram thinking of adjectives to describe this moment until Simon breaks it, asking, “Remember when I called you in the middle of the night, three weeks ago?”

“Yeah?” Bram does the math quickly to know he’s referring to the week before finals.

“Thanks for staying on the phone with me.”

Bram smiles, takes the opportunity to ease even closer, “Of course.”

“It’s not so scary when I think of it like this, you know? The future,” Simon says, fiddling with the planner in his hands. “Not if every year gets to be like this.”

Bram’s heart skips a beat, and he thinks wildly that he should find a pen and write that down before he forgets. Write everything down about this moment: the brush of Simon’s hair, the smell of pine and ice, the weight of Simon’s head on his shoulder… “Hey, Simon,” he says instead, “Can I kiss you?”

Simon lifts his head to face him properly, tilts his head when Bram reaches out to place his hand against the redness on Simon’s cheeks, brushes his thumb to chase the heat. Simon is already leaning in when he murmurs a, “Yeah.”

After Christmas day, Bram and his mom will drive back to Creekwood, to a small camping trip he’d planned with Simon. A two-day set up in the forest at the edge of their state. Then for the rest of the break there will be more hugs, good words, and friends to see. On the second week of January, he’ll join Simon in driving back to his college, before flying to Washington to his own, on the other side of the country. It feels distressing already, the thought of having to let this go, but Bram figures Simon’s right. The thought of the future doesn’t have to be as scary, not when they have moments like this to look forward to.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to catch all grammatical errors, but I’m not Bram... Kindly let me know if there are any glaring mistakes.


End file.
